Coffee, Tea And More
by Tikatu
Summary: A series of drabbles, written using the prompts from Live Journal's 30 beverages community. TV Verse.
1. Can't Wait

_Author's note:_ This is the first in a series of drabbles written for the live journal community 30beverages. Each drabble is 100 words as per a manual count; I've found that, when it comes to word count, my word processor and this archive's software don't agree. I hope you enjoy them.

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Prompt 1, water 

Gordon climbed from the Firefly, pulling off his heat suit's helmet. He was covered in sweat; it dripped through his ginger hair, plastering it to his head.

"Here." Virgil handed over a water bottle, the clear plastic covered in condensation.

"Thanks." Gordon held the bottle to his forehead, his eyes closing at the delicious sensation of cool on hot. He lowered, then opened it, gulping half the water down, pouring the rest on himself. He shook his head sharply, sighing contentedly as it coursed, refreshing, over scalp and face.

Virgil chuckled. "Can't you wait for the pool?"

"No," Gordon replied.


	2. Late Night Snack

Prompt 2, Milk 

Scott's stomach rumbled as he rummaged around in the refrigerator.

"Grandma's apple pie," he murmured. "Just the thing."

He cut a goodly wedge, slipping it into the warmer, returning the rest to the fridge. The pie smelled delicious, and his mouth watered at the aroma.

Suddenly the light went on. "Scott Tracy! What _are_ you doing?"

"Just getting a late night snack, Grandma," he sheepishly admitted.

"Sit down." She took out the warmed pie, set it down before him, then poured a glass of milk. "Can't have pie without milk," she said firmly.

He smiled. "You're so right, Grandma. Thanks."


	3. It Ain't Beer

**_Author's note:_** Scene from _Danger At Ocean Deep_, Parker's POV. From my research, what Americans call _ale_, the British call _beer_; what Yanks call _beer_, the Brits call _lager_.

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Prompt 3, Ale

At first he couldn't understand the fuss. _It ain't beer_, he thought as he poured it,_ it's too thin. How strong can it be? Why, I can down four pints at my local and not get plastered. _Yet now his head was swimming and his speech was slurred. _I've only had a couple!_

His compatriot lifted his tankard of champagne, saying, "A toast, Parker, to Lady Penny-lope Creighton-Ward."

_**Penny-lope?** Bloody twit! I'll have a sharp word with him later... maybe more. _He lifted his own glass, slurring, "A toast, Stephens! A toast to one of England's fairest – hic! - roses."


	4. Fortification

_Author's note:_ The business about the Tracys' singing talent - or lack of it - comes from _Give Or Take A Million_.

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Prompt 4, Egg Nog

"More eggnog, Mr. John?"

"Thanks, Kyrano." John held out his punch cup, the sides already milky tinted with his first – and second – helpings. The retainer carefully refilled it with the thick, creamy mixture.

"Better go easy on that, son," Jeff observed, holding out his own cup for another libation. "It's strong this year."

"Just what I need, Dad." John sipped his drink. "Have to fortify myself for Grandma's yearly request."

Jeff's silvered eyebrows arched upward. "Ah. Then I'd better make sure your brothers are well 'fortified', too. Maybe you'll all sing in tune."

John grinned. "Don't count on it, Dad."


	5. Hair Of The Dog

_Author's note:_ A possible aftermath of the boys' visit to the Follies in _The Perils of Penelope_.

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Prompt 5, vegetable juice

"What is _that_?" Bleary-eyed, Gordon regarded his drink with suspicion.

"Good fer wot ails ye, Mr. Gordon." Parker set another glass, full of a thick red mixture, before Virgil. "My h'own receipt."

Scott pulled the celery stalk from his drink, glancing at Parker. "Do I want to know what's in it?"

Parker thought about this, then shook his head. "Jus' trust me 'ere, Mr. Scott. Ye'll feel better once ye drink h'it."

Virgil picked up his glass, holding it out. "To the Follies. A night of true enjoyment."

"The Follies," his brothers echoed, clinking glasses.

"Bottoms h'up," Parker added.


	6. Out Of The Mist

_Author's note:_ Thanks to Lillehafrue for the title. Inspired by a prompt from live journal's **fic simplicity** community. Their prompt: #6, morning fog.

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Prompt 6 Shakes 

The fog had rolled in off the sea this morning, swathing the island in thick, warm mist. It penetrates his sleeveless sweatshirt and running shorts, leaving him dripping. Saturated, salt-laden air makes breathing difficult; he finds himself panting. His breath rattles in his chest.

His run over, he slows, cooling down. Walking, keeping muscles from cramping, feeling his heart rate settle, he finds the towel, and the cooler. As he grabs his waiting power shake, starting to down it, a figure looms from the murk. He jumps, spilling the drink as a fog-muffled voice calls, "Good run, Scott?"


	7. Memory Lane

Prompt 7, Milkshakes

"Who's that, Grandma?" Alan asked, pointing at the photo.

"Oh, them?" Grandma glanced up, smiling impishly at Jeff. "That's your father with... hmm. I can't recall her name."

Jeff sighed, getting up from his desk. Sitting beside his mother, he glanced at the old album. The photo showed him as a teen, sharing a milkshake with a pretty blonde, each looking moonily into the other's eyes.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked. "Her name was... Cindy... Cathy... I don't remember either."

Grandma smiled fondly. "Once you met Lucy, you forgot all the rest."

"Very true, Mom," he murmured. "Very true."


	8. Cooking, Not Drinking

Prompt 8, buttermilk

Grandma hummed as she mixed up her latest dessert. Melted butter, flour, sugar, vanilla... all would combine to create a thick, moist pound cake rich enough to stand up to Kyrano's raspberry compote.

"Where's the buttermilk?" she murmured, pausing her activity. She stepped away, looking into the refrigerator. "Ah, there it is."

Measuring first the required amount, she poured an extra portion into a separate cup, then took a sip. Her expression of distaste would have been comical had anyone else seen it.

"Buttermilk is for cooking, not drinking," she declared firmly, adding the measured liquid to the stiff batter.


	9. The Astronaut's Friend

Prompt 9, powdered drinks (for a sequel, see chapter 19)

He held the glass up, watching as bits of orange powder slowly dripped down, streaming their hue behind them, changing clear water to colored. Stirring the drink, he watched the particles swirl around, the bright tangerine getting darker as the liquid tornado melted most grains – but not quite all. Small, dark clumps clung, undissolved, to the glass's edges at the surface, and he grimaced with distaste.

Sighing, he raised the glass and drank, the sweet-sour taste of artificial orange rushing past his protesting tongue.

"Just because I'm an astronaut doesn't mean I _have_ to drink Tang, Dad," John muttered.


	10. Confessions

_Author's note:_ A possible aftermath from _Desperate Intruder_.

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Prompt 10, herbal tea

"Father!"

He had sensed her disquiet and anguish on her return from Lake Anasta, and knew she would soon come to him.

"Come, my daughter. Sit. Let us have some tea."

The herbal tea was soothing, fragrant, familiar. She sipped it slowly, hands cradling the porcelain as if to draw strength from it. He waited patiently. When, at last, her eyes met his, a grey eyebrow raised in silent query; a slight, solemn nod encouraged her. She took a deep breath, bowed her head over the teacup, took her courage in both hands, then haltingly began to recount her ordeal.


	11. Cold Hands, Hot Cocoa

Author's note: Scenelet from _Sun Probe_.

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Prompt 11, Chocolate Milk

Virgil cradled the mug of hot chocolate between his bare hands. Mount Arkon was cold, bitterly so, but not as cold as space... and that thought made him shiver. His brothers and Tin-Tin were in that cold void, heading for the sun, to be melted like tiny marshmallows unless Brains worked his scientific magic.

He glanced over at the genius, so intent on recalibrating the transmitter's frequency, trying to reach out from their snowy perch with a lifesaving beam of energy.

_Faster, Brains! Hurry!_ he thought, staring bleakly out at the driving snow, and clutching the hot drink even closer.


	12. The Ritual

Prompt 12, Coffee

"More coffee, Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff automatically held his cup out to Kyrano. It was a ritual now. When the boys were on a rescue, the retainer brought fresh coffee to the lounge, and Jeff would drink cup after cup, using it as a crutch to stay awake, to stay alert until the rescue ended.

He sipped the bitter brew absently, and only put the cup down when Scott's portrait flashed to life. "We've wrapped things up here, Father. Stand down at 1520 hours, local time."

"F-A-B, Scott." He turned to Kyrano. "No more coffee now. The boys are coming home."


	13. Mud In Your Eye

_Author's note:_ Jeff's possible thoughts during a scene from _The Duchess Assignment_.

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Prompt 13, Whiskey 

The elevator ride was eerie. The mechanical voice grated on my nerves, and its answer to my muttered, "Thank you" unnerved me.

Dandridge was effusive as ever. He's proud of his company; everything's automated. He offered a cigarette. It was already lit when I pulled it from his machine. He offered a drink; I asked for whiskey - on the rocks. He chuckled, and his automatic bartender poured a Johnny Walker, just the way I'd ordered.

Good whiskey, good company, and a good cause to espouse. I meant only the best when I said, "Well, here's mud in your automated eye."


	14. Rum and CocaCola

_Author's note:_ It's not canon that, while in WASP, Gordon served with George "Phones" Sheridan, from _Stingray_, but it's not outside the realm of possibility either.

And I don't own the song.

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Prompt 14, Rum

"Drinkin' rum an' Cocaaaa-Cola!"

John winced at the slurred, off-key singing. He opened the hotel door, finding exactly what he'd anticipated: Gordon, one arm around an equally drunk but considerably more stable George Sheridan. George grinned, and delivered his former shipmate into John's arms.

"Surfer Dude an' I had a gooooood time." Sheridan's drawl was strong with drink. "Goo' nigh', y'all."

"Good night, George. Thanks for bringing him back."

"Hey, Phones! Don' call me Surfer Dooood!" Gordon protested, lunging for Sheridan.

John quickly closed the door. "Phew! What've you been drinking?"

"Me?" Gordon resumed his singing. "Drinkin' rum an' Cocaaaa-Cola..."


	15. Hurry Up and Wait

_Author's note:_ Inspired by a prompt from live journal's **fic simplicity** community. Their prompt: #7, Department of Motor Vehicles

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Prompt 15, beer

Alan flopped into a seat by the pool, looking exhausted. Scott followed, carrying two cold bottles of beer. He collapsed into a lounger, and handed Alan a bottle.

"I thought we would be too late," Alan groaned, opening his beer and taking a swig.

"All those people, waiting so patiently." Scott took a long pull, then wiped his mouth.

"It took forever," Alan agreed, guzzling more beer. "It's never been that bad."

Gordon, puzzled, swam up to the pool's edge. "What rescue was this?"

"Rescue? No." Scott shook his head, and drained his bottle. "We just renewed our driver's licenses."


	16. Cognac

Prompt 16, Wine

He held the tulip shaped glass to the light, the golden amber of the cognac pleasing to his eye. Swirling the wine around, he brought the glass to his nose; the scent teased him. A sip, and he sank back into his comfortable chair. Here, in his quarters, he was not the servant, but the master. Right now, he was not the self-effacing retainer, but the connoisseur, the expert... especially of the wine he savored.

Memories of Paris, his wife, and Tin-Tin's early years, always seemed as golden as his nightly libation.

"To old habits," Kyrano murmured, smiling softly.


	17. First Sip

_Author's note:_ This was inspired by fic simplicity's prompt #2, summer rain.

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Prompt 17, Strawberry wine

He'd never had strawberry wine.

But as he kissed her, he imagined that was what her kisses tasted like. Like a summer fruit, sweet, ethereal, full of promise. He pushed her dark, heavy, wet hair back and away, tilting her rain-kissed face up so he could again taste her lips, ripe and red like the fruit. In the warm, summer downpour of a Tracy Island December, he had his first sip of strawberry wine, and it only made him thirst for more.

Her green eyes were closed as she breathed, "Oh, Alan."

He smiled, and kissed her once more.


	18. More?

_Author's note:_ Possible scenelet from "Move And You're Dead".

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Prompt 18, Power drinks

"H-Here, Alan. Drink this."

Overheated from his ordeal on the bridge, Alan sluggishly reached for the bottle he was handed. Bringing the straw to his lips, he dragged on it slowly. Then, realizing his thirst, he pulled out the straw, letting it slip from listless fingers. He wrapped both hands around the bottle, and guzzled the Gatorade as if it were his very last drink.

He blearily glanced at Brains, who watched nearby. His mouth was ringed with orange; it ran down his chin. He licked cracked lips, tasting the drink again. Holding out the empty bottle, he croaked, "More?"


	19. The Real Thing

Prompt 19, Fruit juice (for context, see chapter 9)

The color always seemed lighter, more watery, uneven. The tiny bits of pulp floated, clinging to the sides of the glass in an inviting way. The intricate entwining of flavors, each so similar but different enough if taken alone, made every serving a new delight.

John drained the tumbler in one long continuous swallow. He closed his eyes while he emptied it, savoring each gulp, enjoying the drink's unique, heavy texture.

He sighed in satisfaction, holding out his glass. "More, please, Kyrano."

Scott shook his head. "I'll never understand why you drink so much orange juice when you get home."


	20. Paradise Peaks

Author's note: Scenelet from the end of _The Cham-Cham_. Kirschwasser is cherry brandy.

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Prompt 20, Brandy

The music, by Cass Carnaby and his band, was exciting. The food, excellent. The ambiance – the Swiss Alps - exhilarating. And the company, exquisite. Snifter of kirschwasser in one hand, Cuban cigar in the other, Virgil was more than content. He beamed at his companion, using his most charming smile.

Penelope glanced over his shoulder. "Where do you suppose Alan and Tin-Tin have gone?"

He placed the snifter on the linen-covered table, and the cigar in the marble ashtray. "It doesn't matter." Rising to his feet, he offered his hand. "Care to dance?"

She smiled. "With you, Virgil? Of course."


	21. Pause that Refreshes

Prompt 21, Colas

He'd passed the shop on his way in, but the vending machine hadn't caught his eye then. Returning, the pressure off, he noticed the friendly glow lighting the enticing picture.

Halting the DOMO, he got out, walking over, contemplating the machine and the choices it presented. Thinking of the long flight home ahead, his mouth suddenly felt dry. Now there was nothing he wanted more than a cold bottle from that device. He patted his uniform, realizing he was missing something important.

"Hey, Scott? Got any money?"

"Yeah, Virgil." A pause. "Why?"

Sheepishly, he explained, "I, uh, want a Coke."


	22. Devil Made Me Do It

Prompt 22, Slushes

"Blech." Gordon grimaced at the blue slush, griping, "This used to taste better."

Alan and Tin-Tin walked ahead, Alan's arm around her waist. Another glance at the slush, then at the oblivious couple, and the devil prankster within Gordon just couldn't resist.

_Which one?_ he mused. The devil whispered, "Both."

Sneaking up behind them, he reached out, pulling Tin-Tin's collar away, dumping half the blue ice down her back.

"Augh! Gordon!" Her piercing squeal was satisfying, a perfect reward.

He poured the rest on Alan's head, laughing insanely at their incredulous, angry expressions. But he'd forgotten, they'd bought slushies, too.


	23. Parisian Tradition

Author's note: Scenelet from _The Perils of Penelope_, retold from Penny's POV.

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Prompt 23, Mixed drinks

The liquor was by Pernod, strong and anise flavored, prepared at her table in the traditional manner. Its milky, mint green color promised the drink was properly made.

Penelope smiled at Sir Jeremy, and began raising the glass to her pink tinted lips, eager to savor her Parisian tradition.

A gunshot cracked; the glass broke, spilling its contents on both gloves and frock. Affronted, she glanced toward her car, and her accomplice.

"Beg pardon, Milady, but the drink was drugged," he informed her.

Thwarted in her pleasure, she sighed. "Oh dear, how tiresome. It looked such a pretty Pernod, too."


	24. Pick Me Up

_Author's note:_ There are several brands of this drink in the US that you could almost mistake for being beer if the only thing you saw was the bottle. I decided to count "pick-me-up" as three words instead of one as the site does.

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Prompt 24, Root Beer 

Brains opened the dark brown bottle with a practiced hand. He poured the brown liquid into the frosted tankard, watching with satisfaction as the foamy head swelled, threatening to flow over the glass's edge. He took a long pull, smacking his lips, then wiping the bubbly moustache away.

"Are you sure you should have that now?" Virgil asked skeptically. "You're working on _my_ 'Bird."

"I n-need a pick-me-up," Brains stuttered. He handed the bottle over.

Virgil lifted it and tasted the dregs.

"Brains!" he cried, nearly spitting out the mouthful. "Why didn't you tell me? That's _root _beer!"


	25. Her Daily Pleasures

Prompt 25, Tea

Cucumber and salmon paste sandwiches. Jam tarts. Warm scones. Pats of butter, molded into tiny daisies. Thin, crisp biscuits. The small pitcher of cream. The sugar bowl, filled with lumps. The delicate china cups and saucers. Pink linen napkins, sugar tongs, silverware... and of course, the brewing pot of hot tea. Earl Grey blend, the best that money could buy. All her favorites. All her daily pleasures.

"It's ready, Parker," Lil says, slipping a pink rose into a tall, slim vase.

Parker nods, then pushes the cart carefully to the drawing room. Opening the door, he announces, "Your tea, milady."


	26. Withdrawal Symptoms

_Author's note:_ This is not the same drabble for this prompt as the one on **30 beverages**. I was unhappy with that one, and wrote this up this morning to replace it.

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Prompt 26, Caffeine drinks

The airlock to Thunderbird Five opened, and a bleary-eyed John waited, bag in hand. He glared at both Alan and Scott.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Alan quipped.

John rubbed his forehead. "Don't. Just don't. I have a monstrous headache."

Scott frowned, concerned. "What's the matter? Are you sick?" He reached out to test his brother for fever, but John swatted his hand away.

"I'm not sick!" he muttered irritably.

Scott, now scowling, folded his arms. "If you're not sick, what's wrong?"

John returned the scowl. "I ran out of coffee, okay?"


	27. What Leaves Are For

_Author's note:_ This was inspired by a prompt from **fic simplicity**; their prompt #8, Leaf Pile.

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Prompt 27, Kool-Aid 

"Geronimo!" Scott got a running start , bellyflopping into the growing pile of autumn leaves. He threw some high in the air; John giggled as they fell into his blond hair.

Jeff stopped raking, shaking his head. "I'll never get this done."

"Jeff, you know what leaves are _really_ for," Lucille said, stepping outside, carrying a pitcher of red Kool-Aid, baby Gordon perched on one hip. Virgil followed, carrying paper cups.

"Yes, I know." Jeff drank some punch, beckoning his sons to join him.

"Geronimo!" he shouted. He flopped backwards into the pile, his laughing sons falling on him in delight.


	28. Shameless Flirt

_Author's note:_ Scene from _Alias Mr. Hackenbacker_, Tin-Tin's POV. I can never figure out if they're trying to say "Starlight Roof" or "Starlight Room"!

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Prompt 28, Champagne

He was being a _terrible_ flirt.

He suggested going to the Starlight Roof for a celebratory bite to eat. Penelope brought up the champagne. "Vintage 1993," she said, "the best year for champagne." We tacitly agreed we'd open the bottle there.

He came up behind me, looking so unlike himself in his shades and polka-dot bow tie.

"Miss Kyrano, may I escort you to the Starlight Roof?"

I smiled. "Why, certainly! I'd be delighted, Mr... _Hackenbacker_." I playfully pronounced his alias; the word sounded so foreign.

He blushed. "You know, _you_ can call me... Hiram."

Such a _shameless_ flirt!


	29. Marginal Impact

_Author's note:_ Lucille Tracy fic, set before her pregnancy with Alan, as some authorities have her dying while giving birth to him.

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Prompt 29, Diet drinks

The diet soda rests in the treadmill's cup holder. Lucille picks it up, and gulps the contents, emptying the can. Four boys have had an impact on her figure; she is determined to keep that impact marginal. After all, her husband is a highly desirable man: ex-astronaut, up-and-coming financial giant... she wants to keep him!

The door opens, unheard over the music she is listening to. Suddenly, arms wrap around her waist, pulling her from the treadmill. Warm lips nibble their way along a shoulder; her doubts dissolve like soda bubbles. He is hers, and always will be.


	30. Introductions

_Author's note:_ Last one - author's choice. _Terror in the Sky_, from Tin-Tin's POV. Thanks so much for hanging in here with me, and for all the lovely reviews!

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Prompt 30, Open up a... 

We shared a bottle of red wine that momentous day. Later, we sat at the bar, chatting. He was polite, if opinionated, with a strong American accent. Nice looking, too, tanned and fit.

Then things began to happen, things that boded ill for this, the Fireflash's maiden flight. The wine turned sour in my stomach when it became terribly clear that we were in serious danger.

Yet the danger was averted. International Rescue was introduced to the world, helping Fireflash land safely, despite the bomb in its landing gear. Soon I was reunited with Father, the Tracys and especially... Alan.


End file.
